Sober
by Skysha-Tranqui
Summary: Prequel to 'Tipsy'. Yaoi. Slash. Spander. Psychic!Xander trying to drown out the voices in his head, just so happens to have a vision concerning Spike, which leads to him saving the chipped vamps unlife. Only a ficlet, but hopefully it will be the first i


Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS, or any of its characters, so don't sue me!

Pairing: S/X

Plot:Xander has a secret (I know it's been done, but I love that plot device). He doesn't like being psychic, and ends up drinking a lot in an attempt to dull his power. However, this doesn't always work, and it's when this isn't working that he happens to save Spike's undead life.

Couldn't write a full story, so I've decided (thanx to some guidance) to turn it into a series of mini ficlets instead. Here's ficlet one! Feedback much appreciated.

Sober

Warm, liquid, amber. That's what true whiskey is. Looks silky, and if you stare at it long enough, hard enough, you find yourself seeing all the faces of long-dead insects, and people, that you would expect to find in the stone itself.

Or maybe that was just what Xander could see, when he let his attention drift too much. Jesse. Larry. Miss Calendar.

It was when the familiar face of Joyce Summers appeared that he finally clued in to what he was doing, and Xander downed the drink in one go.

Indiscernible lyrics played out of ratty old speakers, and the depressing tone of the piece found a new home in the Scooby's bones. The entire theme of the demon bar seemed to be 'the more crumbling it is, the more demonic we appear', or at least, that was the theme which sprung to Xander's mind when he'd first taken in the barstools covered in moldy red velvet, and the dangerously wobbly wooden chairs which surrounded the few tables there were.

Despite being a shithole, the bar was surprisingly full – all of the customers, except for Xander, being part, if not full, demon.

It was the exact opposite of a place where you'd expect to find one of the Slayer's playmates, and that was precisely why the man - who now had his head on the bartop, hands clutching at his brown hair - had chosen it.

That, and the fact that it had copious amounts of his amber liquid of choice on hand, whereas he'd managed to out-drink the supply at his usual haunt.

Blearily lifting his head, Xander tried to ignore the subtle tap-tap-tapping in his head, shaking hand gesturing for a refill.

As the green-skinned bartender began the familiar task of refilling the tumbler, the persistent tap suddenly turned into a full out _knock_.

Deep hazel eyes locked onto the whiskey, pupils narrowing to dots, and whites vanishing from sight, as the orbs shifted into a different kind of vision.

"…Running…alleyway…slate-grey door, it's a back door…red dress – no, skirt…blonde hair…"

Lifting his gaze from the tumbler, the Valorsch demon felt a shiver run down his spikes as he saw the change that had overcome the human-smelling man. The tumbler refilled, he quickly hurried away to another customer – leaving the blind-looking drunk and his ramblings to himself. It was no business of his what the man was up to, and for once he had no curiosity about it.

"…wait, it's not her hair – it's her target's hair…blood…a memory…anger…hatred…driven to do what?…black leather…wooden stick…"

Xander frowned deeply, annoyed that he couldn't see clearer. Pupils narrowed even further as he searched for a clearer picture, slight sweat making his forehead glisten as he exerted himself.

The clouds cleared a bit more, focusing on the details…

"…Spike! – MOVE !"

Pushing out abruptly, for the moment forgetting that what he was seeing wasn't actually real, Xander was only distantly aware that his hands hit flesh.

As his eyes returned to normal – the vision leaving him – Alexander Harris realised something that had never happened before; he'd changed the outcome of his vision.

For, lying at his feet was an annoyed-looking blonde, leather coat crumpled under him, and freshly-lit fag burning away on the carpet it had been dropped on. A feathered shard of wood quivering in the bar where the vampire had previously been stood.

Recognising the crossbow arrow for what it was, Xander was already on his feet and scanning the bar for the arrow's owner, by the time Spike had got back to his feet and begun his tirade.

"…the hell was that for! Now, I know you hate it when I sneak up on you, like, but you've never reacted so… - oi, what's this doing here?"

Halting his examination of the staring occupants of the bar, Xander turned back in time to see the peroxide menace tug the arrow free and turn it over in his hands. Watching as Spike looked up at him, then at the bar – obviously realising what had happened.

"If you didn't notice me sneaking up on you, Harris, then how on this bleedin' earth, did you manage to notice someone about to shoot me with a crossbow? And why did you bother to stop them?"

The vampire's unusually subdued voice worried Xander slightly.

Not just because he'd come so close to having his secret found out, but because of the tinge of wonder and suppressed bitterness he could just make out in Spike's tone. Did the vampire seriously think Xander would have been able to just stand by and watch as he turned to dust? Nevermind that he shouldn't have been able to tell that arrow was coming, and that, in theory, that was exactly what would have been happening if he didn't have his 'gift'.

It was beyond time at least one of the Scooby's made some gesture of friendship to the chipped vamp, given how obviously stuck with him they were.

__

And nothing at all to do with the fact that you do actually like him, right Xander?

Ignoring the voice in his head – because he refused to go insane because of something as little as hearing things – Xander looked into the narrowed blue eyes that were currently analysing him.

Pretending he didn't hear the reverent _pretty_, he turned his oft-ridiculed intellect to the task of creating a convincing lie.

"Umm, I saw the arrow in the reflection. When I turned to see where it was coming from I saw you standing there…in its path, and I…well, of course, I wouldn't just stand by and let you die. You're one of us now after all."

Topping it off with a half apologetic shrug, Xander was just congratulating himself on lying convincingly, for the first time in his life, when he heard a small cough.

"One teensy problem with that explanation pet."

Apprehensive brown eyes looked at the blonde's familiar cocky expression _Uh oh…_

"There's no mirror for there to have been a reflection."

Ah. That's what a night of heavy drinking does to you – keeps you from remembering certain things, like the fact that the bar you'd started the night in had had a mirror…but the one you'd moved on to didn't.

A cautious hand was placed on the bartop, as Xander prepared for the need to run – an instinctive response to being in an unwelcome situation – when his wandering hand found something.

Smile quirking his lips, he lifted up what he'd found, and presented it to a smug looking Spike. One whose expression quickly turned befuddled.

"I saw the reflection in my glass of whiskey."

Lifting the tumbler in salute of the bleached one, Xander quickly downed his liquid of choice. Put the necessary number of bills next to the empty glass on the bar, then turned and walked away.

The tap-tap-tapping was dimmed now, thanks to the loud knock, and the man knew there would be no more ghosts frozen in their pool of amber. At least, not tonight.

Staring thoughtfully after the brown-haired Scooby, Spike went over the events in his head.

The familiar head bent over his drink, the weary cast to his figure. It hadn't seemed very typical of the young man, and despite himself, Spike had been concerned. Not concerned enough to ask what was wrong – just concerned enough to sneak up on the boy and try'n' scare him enough to snap out of it.

Almost close enough to touch him, but then he'd whirled 'round himself and shoved Spike away.

Even as he'd been surprised by the action, he'd felt the stab of hurt it caused him to be rejected. Buffy he was used to, she loved having any excuse to hit him – but Xander and Willow, they never raised a hand against him since he became…helpless.

Brushing aside the minute flinch that label still caused him, Spike finally pinpointed what had been bothering him about the entire thing.

"…But you hadn't raised your glass."

That was the least of the flaws, now that he was thinking about it, but the easiest way to sum it up. One thing was also obvious.

"I'm gonna have to keep my eye on you."


End file.
